A League of Eight
by Agent Silver
Summary: Spinoff of LXG. The real world is nearing to an end, and only a group of eight men with eight arms can stop it. uncomplete and revised in chapter 1
1. Prologue

**_Prologue

* * *

_**

It started on the year 2006.

That was the year where the anti-christ was born. 6/6/06.

Before the end of World War II, Adolf Hitler and his wife Eva Braun (Hitler) had locked a sample oftheir blood in a cold chamber, unknown to anyone's knowledge, except forHitler'smost trusted Nazi-scientist, Dr. Männlich. Hitler knew that his plan for a master Aryan race was failing, and only a matter of time before he and his dream dies.

A decendant of Männlich found the Hitlers' genes, ready to fullfill his Grandfather's duty. They did research illegally under the table, for many years, so many tries to create a copy of Hitler and Braun. It also happened that they successfully createdthe clones on the date of the beast.

Männlich's decendant and a group of terrorists called World Four, or W4 secretly raised the clones, code-namingthem Ragnarok; the Hitler clone named Adam and theBraun clone named Eve.W4 created an idea, to create a race superior than humans, _homo potens_, or Gaians. They say that the only way to conduct world peace was to eliminate all the 'others' and create a race where the organisms think only the same ideas.

They had a vision, to recreate Planet Earth, to rename it Gaia, after it's greek name.

They are terrorists with Govenmental, scientific, and electricalintelligence. There is no exact base, as it is world wide. It has a website, spreading its propaganda of hate.

When America's Patriot Actand War on Terror have taken action, itrevealed W4's actions and plans. W4challenged awar against the allied powers and the rest of the world. Germany, Japan, and Italy refused to accept W4's fanatical request for alliance. Countries North Korea, Cuba, a torn apart Russia, Iran, Pakistan, and many other communist countries that were pushed around by Democracy each agreed to support W4 to remain in their peaceful terms.

Many Neo-Nazis, IRA members, Ku Klux Klan members, and other white power groups teamed up and formed an army for W4, in support of the White Superiority. There have been some rumors about the under the table funding for W4, made by the Religious rights themselves.

First there were rioting in the streets. W4 had spread their propaganda through internet, email, and soon as spam and viruses were usedto hurtnon-Whites first. Then hit and run killings in the streets next. Many were arrested, but it didn't stop the W4's army. Soon there were bombings in schools filled with non-whites, and in gay bars. Arsoning in black neighborhoods. Demolition of synagogues and mosques.

President Bush and the Bush administration did not handle the situation seriously at first; they were still concentrating on the War in Iraq and Al Qaeda terror, only leaving the problem up to the National Guard. When non-W4 supporters beganprotesting in front of the white house, it was the last straw when W4 soldiers rioted and attacked innocent protesters, bombing them and killing them off with machine guns. But America was left unguarded, because all of their soldiers are in the Middle East.

Then, when the clones were five years of age, North Korea made a grave mistake.

They sold their atomic missiles to W4, and as soon as they had them in custody, W4 launched a messageto many socialist, democratic, and non-white ruled countries to deport their non-whites to local concentration camps to finish what the Führer 'started', or else they will be bombed by nuclear warheads. When many countries refused, many civilians panicked, as that W4had no difficulty pressing the button for the missile launch.

The world was a mess. Billions were dead, thousands were nuclear poisoned. Man's extinction was coming. The Gaian race will come forth. Ragnarok has surely come.

But rebel forces will not let it stand by. Many countries-- and the people inside them that survived-- will combine together as, HLH, or Humanity's last hope. Whether you're a black man, a woman, a white, Spainish, Asian, Muslim, Jewish, or middle-eastern terrorist or not, you're all part of HLH, fighting the war--WWIII---to survive.

But soon, the last American national guard, a British comic book fanatic, and an ex-RussianW4 nuclear scientist will team up together to bring forth 8 warriors with 8 limbs each, to put a stop to Ragnarok.

The question is, can they work together before Judgment day?

Alone, they are soldiers. Together, they are heroes.

This is a story where they save the world.

Together, they make a League of Eight.

* * *

Hello all! I decided to rewrite this thing, since I had trouble with my previous ideas; this sounds like sense, but it is scary, is it? Only fiction, people... 

I'm sorry that I don't own any Marvel characters, however I did make up whatever make up character I created, but if they are real, I'll seriously kill myself, lol. Just because I said that the clones of Hitler and Eva are really the anti-christ and have ended the world, doesn't mean is true, and I'd laugh if some lunatic goes around saying that they're the 'son of the devil' because they're born in June 6th, 2006, because there have been worst men in history out there.

However, I will explain in the summaries when I have updated the next few chapters. **So don't be confused about the later chapters that I did not redo**! I'll update in time, I promise this time. You can give me death threats if you have to.

I revised the 8, and I will not hide it from you:

1) Ramos! Ock

2) Ultimate! Ock

3) Alfred! Ock

4) Female! Ock (Carolyn Trainer)

5) Kid! Ock (Ollie Osnick)

6) Spider-Ock (Peter Parker)

7) Black Spider (Mercenary Ock)

8) India! Ock

I decided to replace Original Ock with Ramos, because Ramos! is more modern and is still the same as the original! one. India! Ock can be found in the Indian version of Spider-man; Alfred! Ock is not the same as the SM is dead Ock, I have plans for our tortured soul later on.

I will reveal no more. Have fun!


	2. Gary

Chapter 1: Gary

Gary was always a Spider-man fan.

Even now, even as he recruits the army. He have collected numerous comic books and went to various comic cons. He loved Tobey Maguire's performance in the Spider-man movies, and Doctor Octopus, who played exceedingly well by Alfred Molina, was his favorite, and forever will be, villain ever to be played in a Spider-man movie. He have even dreamed of creating a super-hero comic book someday, to follow in the Marvel master, Stan Lee.

But that was a long time ago. I mean, a real long time ago. That was when a time where innocence wasn't wasted, went cities weren't destroyed. That was a time when blitzkrieg was returned and have bombed the British country skies, and when chemical weapons weren't spilt. That was a time the sky was once blue, and the sun was seen. You'd be lucky if you ever see one clear cloud nowadays—they were all covered in pollution. That was a time when Gary was only 10.

Now this is reality. Now this is the future. W2 is in war against all of the countries. They make a faction containing different countries that hated the States, and that hated politicians or countries that is in peace with the States. The whole world is at war. But, they dared not call this a World War III, after what happened to the first two... but, that is just the way it is. And Gary's used to it.

But he still loves Spider-man. He'll forever will be. He wished Spidey to take part in this war at some way, to be a spy or something. Now Gary is recruiting the British army--- a point where no return. But hey, the world needs help after all. The ones who need peace, or want peace for the matter, want this war to be over with again.

And, W2 is kind of smart. Just think, they haven't used atomic weapons at all...or yet. They might've used chemical weapons. They might've contaminated certain arms with deadly diseases. At least they're smart enough not to blow up the world...yet.

Gary watched nervously at the man in front of him. He just turned in his registration form.

"No...physical experience?"

Gary gulped. He always has been a scrawny kid. The one with brains, he has done well in the school that was provided. And he was always the comic fanatic of course—but that doesn't matter. He have done some exercises, but not enough for a record.

"I guess so..." Gary answered, with no nervous tone in his voice. At least he knows how to mask his emotions. He was used to doing so, as that he was always picked on.

The man studied Gary for a while. "Hmm..." the man mused for a while. "But you do extremely well with Math and science."

Gary wanted to smile, but didn't. He was always proud when someone comes up to him and say he is good at Math and Science. And that fact, he never gets tired of it.

"Brilliance is not a gift," Gary nodded, "but a privilege used to help mankind...something I've always believed in, sir." Gary wanted to laugh. Doc Octavius' famous words. Of course, he have always liked the good doctor, both comic and movie, the guy has so many similarities with the web-head himself. He was the guy with eight arms...with things that was originally used to handle radioactive atomic materials. Gary tries to imagine himself with eight arms, seeing himself kick W2 ass in the battlefield...but his mind was cut short when the lieutenant in front of him "ahemed".

The lieutenant nodded, soaking in Gary's words. "Yes...and mankind needs all the help she can get." He looked up at Gary, then back at his file, then back at the boy again.

"Okay...Gary...Porter, right? Gary Porter?"

Gary nodded nervously.

"'Tell you what. I'll recruit you. But you got to promise me you wouldn't give up the moment you entered in."

Gary's moods were brightened. "Yes sir! I won't let you down!"

The comic book fanatic made salute.

* * *

Catholic bells rang. Many people entered into a church, the noise quieting down. A woman was sitting by the organ, playing the church's entrance song, 'Jesus Bleibet meine freude'.

A priest approached the front, and all eyes faced upon him. He opened his bible, and began to read through it, while the people chatter, as more church members enter the church building.

As soon as the last person entered, who wore a black leather trenchcoat, the organ ended, and the pastor faced the crowd. Church session was about to begin.

Otto Octavius sat in the far back, as he has always did. Ever since Peter was back alive, he was determined to earn God's forgiveness, so he could see Rosie when his time was up. He attended this catholic every Sunday, and has prayed every night. He even wore a golden cross, which once belonged to Rosie.

And he'd go along with his friends, who each forgave him for his past crimes. Peter Parker, Mary Jane Watson, May Parker...and even Harry Osborn. He and Osborn still glare daggers at each other, they still look like they would rip each other heads off...if it weren't for Peter to referee between the two. Now it is the almighty that he needs convincing.

But, other than the fact that he was still into hiding and that the world have to refer Peter as 'Ben Reilly' now for every time they see him (Peter returns back as Spider-man, and it really confused the big apple), everything was returning back to normal. Otto's life-threatening wounds were healing. He wasn't sick anymore. He tries to return all that weight he had before he 'killed' Peter, and he exercise everyday, to build up his strength to use against the baddies. He works side-by-side with Spider-man now, with the Green Goblin helping occasionally.

Otto's friends sat in the row in front of him, and he sat in the empty back. They would sit in the same spot and position every Sunday. And Otto, he would pay attention to every words of Reverend Johnson's sermon.

Peter turned around in his seat, facing the good doctor. Otto raised a brow.

"What?" the older man asked with a whisper.

"Nothing. Funny, how just two months ago, you tried to kill me." Peter answered.

It has been two months since Otto's personal end-of-the-world.

He was in the brink of death, the brink of being broken, the line between sane and insanity. If it wasn't for the fact that Peter came back from the dead, all hell would've broken loose. Thank God for that.

Otto smiled at his friend. "I'm so glad things have changed."

The boy nodded.

"And now, the daily prayer," the priest have said after his sermon.

The members each went into their knees, and began to say the prayer in a low choir.

Otto went into his knees, closed his eyes, and placed his two hands together, and began to recite the prayer in which he have gotten from memory:

"Our father, thou art in heaven, hollowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth...as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses. As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, deliver us from evil, for thine is our kingdom, the power, the glory, forever and ever...amen."

God, please forgive me for all of the sins I have done, for breaking the rules among the 10 commandments, Otto have thought, the actuators not interrupting.

But soon, the good doctor will be placed to an ultimate test.

* * *

Review plz!


	3. Marc

Chapter 2—Marc

When you're at war, you gotta work hard, work for your country. Marcus Brown is like that—he'd risk his life for his country. But he isn't in the navy, or the army, or the air force for the matter. And he's not particularly fighting for a country—even though his out the protecting it. He isn't in a country's faction—that's what I was trying to say- but he is out there, trying to save the world.

He's an American, working for S.W.O.R.D. His nationality is America, but he is fighting for everybody—to maintain the peace going on in the world. He's fighting for the Canadians, he's fighting for the Mexicans, he's fighting for the British, he's fighting for the Africans, Chinese, Japanese, Russians, French, Australians, Europeans, everybody. And, everybody else in S.W.O.R.D. is all in the same way.

S.W.O.R.D. was supposed to be a secret government; no one was supposed to know them. That, until W2 gave out their global threat, and the people worldwide all had a right to know the truth. To know who is protecting them.

And it is until they needed the armed forces for help.

Marcus never had a problem with working with the army or even alongside the civilians. W2 is just too great. It was the war that was sickening. Too many people dying, too many places falling apart, ruining innocents, mother nature being abused.

As if that everything was all black and white back in WWII and the Holocaust...and here on, everyone thinks that's all over. Now there's Al Qaeda to deal with. But there are people out there that aim for world domination, that aim for destruction, for killing. Hitler tried to commit genocide, W2 is aiming to do so themselves.

Marc sighed, holding his rifle up. He rode on a jeep, with 3 other men, along with other jeeps and trucks that were all in one road. Marc was tired, as that the day has been long, and he wishes for nightfall so he could just rest. They were heading to Poland and Russia, passing through the country Germany. Nazis recently raided a nearby town, and luckily these S.W.O.R.D. troops came by and prevented anymore damage. But knowing they must be around the area, they ought to expect any W2 attacks sooner or later.

He sat back and closed his eyelids, entering a light sleep. His comrade and friend, Morgan Smith, sat back and did the same, with a grin.

"...tired?" Morgan whispered, through this silence. There were only sounds of cars humming, nothing else. The soldiers were awfully quiet.

Marc smiled. "Tired? I feel like collapsing!"

"The sun'll fall soon. Just be patient."

"I can hardly know the difference whether or not the sun would be out or not." That's partly true. The sky's covered with pollution clouds, and so it seems like it was cloudy with rain all the time. They had to watch out for acid rain, where the rain drops would hurt when contacted with skin, now that chemicals and the pollution entered in the water cycle.

"Keep your hopes up. This'll be a long ride anyway."

Marc nodded. Morgan is a great friend. He was always there with him, ever since combat training. He was born in America, but grew up in Greece. The guy's familiar with the European lands, and Morgan would tell Marc about his childhood, about the beautiful Greece and Athens, and about all of the countries he'd visited in his golden summers while school was out.

He's about Marc's age, only one year younger, about 22. They were the youngest of S.W.O.R.D., and was taunted countless times, but they endured it all together. They both proved to be really rough when it comes to a battle. They were both proud to be among the youngest.

Marc sat back, enjoying his bumpy ride. Morgan is right, it'll be quite a long time to get to another country. Good time to rest. For now...

* * *

Life was hard without anyone to care for, or to be with. This is an Otto Octavius that never had anyone. Ever.

Okay, so maybe he had his mother, who passed away so many long time ago, and Mary Alice Burke, who died of AIDS, and maybe even Stunner and Carolyn Trainer...

But with the exception of all of that, no one was there for him. He had to survive this cold world on his own, living a criminal life... living with four metal tentacles welded on his back.

Well, even though it separated him from being part of the rest of the world, he favored its power. To be the one, who was actually a match against a certain arachnid. He'd hate to say it, but the arms make him really similar to Spider-man. Eight arms, heh.

But Otto is proud to be named Doctor Octopus. At least this sea animal is larger than a bug. At least he has a catchy nickname. 'Spidey', sure, but 'Doc Ock'? It even rhymes with 'rock' for God's sake—beat that my little spider foe!

And now, this Otto Octavius lay in his prison cell. He's caught again—but so what? There was nothing left to do. He's a criminal, and it has always been the way that criminals were locked up—right?

Besides, what's the purpose in it anyway? He's superior, yeah, and smarter above all these other brutes they call themselves thugs, he could even use his knowledge to do what Doctor Octopus does best...but there was no sense in doing it anymore. He's just a guy who was a respected but resented scientist, who winds up with eight arms in his spine. Maybe if there was no accident, he'd probably be different by now.

He'd probably invent something useful, something people would appreciate him of. Maybe he'd lose some weight maybe, follow that Atkins diet people always talk about, and get a girl, maybe start a family. Maybe if his mother wasn't so selfish, or if he'd haven't been so furious when finding out his mother was dating some guy, he wouldn't be 'Doctor Octopus'. Maybe...not now. Just a waste of time, to think these thoughts. Too late to change things now, since he's a freak with 8 limbs total. A powerful freak that is.

But it never hurts to think, to ask 'what if'? He is human, after all, not a machine. And that's the part he hates. To be emotional at times, to feel pain and pleasure. And, he has no sense of purpose in this life anymore. Why live in a world, where everyone else hates you for what you've accidentally become? Why live in a world that becomes hell for you every second? But he can't give up now-no sir-not after all that hard work he struggled to become. He came into this mess, and he'll have to come clean. But how is he to come clean?

Something will happen soon. If he could just hold on a little longer.

* * *

Okay. Wow.I couldn't go on the internetsince I have dial-up...and my phone's out. Oh well. I try and update as soon as I can, I really want to write this! Don't worry, the fun will come.


	4. Treason? Machine?

Chapter 3: Machine? Treason?

* * *

(9 months ago from last chapter)

A tired Gary sat on his cot, soon lying on his back. He immediately started combat training after he enlisted, leaving his family and friends behind. He had promised them that he would return, but after watching movies like 'Saving Private Ryan' or 'Black hawk down', he's not really sure of himself. But, at least he's risking his life to save his country...the world...millions of innocent lives...and that makes a big difference. That is what worth fight for, right?

But if that's the case, why is he spending 18 months in combat training, running his butts off? Shouldn't he be out there, in a battle? Sure, he'll need to build up strength, especially since he was a comic book geek, but C'mon! 18 months of push-ups 100 times for every little mistake you do? 18 months of running more miles everyday, when you were running 1 mile on the first day and 8 miles a week after that? 18 months of being pushed around everyday, being teased because he was a geeky comic book fan in civilian life—is that all worth it?

Of course, Sergeant White has warned him and his fellow enlistees. But that didn't back him down. Well, White's warnings didn't back him down. And, by the time he reached only half of his time, Gary would've wanted to give up, but only that he couldn't, or else he'll have to stay and be forced to clean the kitchens. To face humiliation. As if holding the named of a comic geek isn't enough.

His whole body aches like hell. His legs felt weak, tired. He cannot move again. But he closed his eyes, and tried to relax.

"Hey man," one of his comrades shouted out when he entered his tent, "your next issue is here." The guy tossed Gary a book, or rather comic book, covered in plastic wrap. It was his next issue of the 'Amazing Spider-man', which the comics come in weekly. Like, it comes in a chapter per week, or more.

Gary smiled, tearing the wrap, observing his next issue. He's surprised that the Americans still make these comics, even in situations like these. He guess that Spider-man gives hope to the people, that with great power comes greater responsibility.

"Hey Gary," the man, who Gary recognizes as Scott Colfer sat next to him, spoke, "can I read your comics? There's nothing left to do anyway." Gary nodded, and opened up his bag where he placed his other comics in.

Spider-man taught him something, and that is never to give up. Gary is going to play his part in the responsibility of fighting in this war, and that he'll never give up. Ever. No matter in hard times, Spidey never stopped, never let a bad guy go off. Gary smiled, and stood up. That confused Scott.

"Where you're goin'?" Scott asked.

Gary didn't answer. He walked out of the tent, just realizing that next morning he'll be better than ever.

* * *

(9 months to now)

Gary lifted his rifle, and aboard the army truck. He finally went through his training, and felt ready for anything. Spider-man have given him hope, and he'll forever acknowledge that.

He had a first mission. "To accompany S.W.O.R.D. in Russia." Russia was in some kind trouble, the other countries had trouble communicating. So, they sent some troops to check it out. S.W.O.R.D. had a greatest suspicion that it could be a trap, so they sent some back-up for any help.

Gary gulped. His first mission. Probably soon his first battle too. And he hopes that it wouldn't be soon, since he knows that people will die in battle. Maybe himself. He tries not to think about that.

The British troops rode in army trucks, and jeeps. They should catch up with S.W.O.R.D. by now. They were ahead, probably in Moscow by now, where that's their destinated location. They're traveling through Poland right now.

Scott sat next to him. The guy was like, 10 years older than Gary, but they both looked at each other like brothers, watched each other's backs. Scott had explained that he grew up in farmland, somewhere in northern Britain, before he entered college in London. Until then, he decided to enlist the army, since he was failing his grades.

They stayed with each other most of the time, and Gary could sense that he'll double team with him in battle. But hopefully that will never come...

* * *

As predicted, these S.W.O.R.D. troops made it before the British army did.

Marc laid down in his made up tent, resting and half asleep.

"Hey, man," Morgan entered his tent, "sleepin' already?"

"Aren't you tired?" Marc's eyes were still closed, but he smiled.

"Yeah, but remember, Serge' told us to stay alarmed. W2 could be here any minute."

Marc was tired. He didn't speak after that, but, sensing his friend's worried tone, he sat up, looking at Morgan. "Okay," he spoke, "come on, I'm hungry. Are they serving something yet?"

Morgan smiled. "Yeah, spaghetti," he replied.

"Mmm...my favorite...hope its American's."

"Nope. Pure Italian."

Marc groaned.

* * *

"Sergeant Burglow, sir!" a Russian soldier saluted in front of Burglow. He stood tall, and proud like an American soldier, but his accent was pure Russian. "Doctor Mikal Hammlick is on the other line."

The Sergeant's eyes brightened. He was in a war room, along with the other Russians. "Is he now? Let's hear from the good doctor." He followed the Russian soldier into the radar room, who gave him a dark green colored phone.

"Burglow, here."

"Sir, I believe the machine is almost done." A voice with a Russian spoke on the other side.

"Good news, Doctor!"

"Unfortunately sir, we found a traitor."

Burglow's spirits flew. "What was that?" he barked.

"One of my assistants admitted, he spied and gave information about the machine. He also said he gave them a blueprint. I don't think that the machine is safe here."

Burglow cursed. "How the Hell did that happen? Alright, Doctor, I'm sending my men over there!" He hung up before the Doctorprotested.

* * *

"Alright troops!" a Russian general barked out through a megaphone towards the sleeping tents. "Pack up! We're leavin'!"

Marc woke up, rubbing his eyes, looking to his alarm clock. 3:30 in the morning. "Mmph." He groaned, "way too early..."

He sat up from his sleeping bag, feeling drowsy. He looked up and saw Morgan already putting on his shoes on.

"What's the hold up?" Marc asked.

"Didn't you hear earlier?" Morgan said, "the Russian scientists needed help. They say it's some kind of machine or something, and the Wooies are comin'."

Wooies. That's a little nickname the soldiers give to the W2 faction. Funny word? Well, it is the only way to mock them.

Marc just suddenly woke up from his tiredness. "Wooies in battle? Count me in!"

Morgan tossed Marc his uniform. "Hurry up. We're leaving in 10 minutes."

* * *

Um, I'm going to have to at least post once a week, since I don't have internet access anymore...anyway, sorry about not having Otto in this chapter, but you will see soon! The fun part will come! 


	5. The Sky was Falling

Chapter 4: The sky was falling

* * *

"Mum," a boy spoke when he was walking home from school; "I'm home! I'm going to do a science project in my room, and I don't want you to disturb me please! Okay? Thank you!" He immediately ran into his room before he could even look at his mother's face.

"Ollie?" Mrs. Osnick peeked her head through the doorway that leads to the corridor and Ollie's room. He didn't answer; he closed the door.

Ollie Osnick, boy genius. Ten-years-old, already in the 9th grade. He's just your average student with a high IQ, good at math and science...and guess who's his favorite science idol? No, not Einstein (okay, maybe he likes Einstein too)...but a much better, particular, hotter, handsomer, cooler scientist in his day: Doctor Otto Octavius AKA the tenacious Doctor Octopus.

Ollie was a fan of Otto even before the guy got into a freak accident. You would know, because he has a large collection of newspaper articles in the science section about him (including that People magazine article claiming Octavius 'possessing charming madness')

And to this boy, who is so brilliant for his age, guess what his science project is? No, not a mini-sun, but close...his very own set of actuators. Complete with its metallic features, and impervious to heat and magnetism. But then, his project isn't for school at all. In fact, this is a personal project, and Ollie was planning to do something that is a dream come true to many of Otto's fans—being worthy as Otto's partner in crime.

Ollie dropped down his backpack and opened his closet door, looking at a box that was labeled 'Christmas decorations'. In fact, there were no Christmas decorations inside; he threw them away along time ago. But, to keep up an alibi and to keep his mother from looking, he hid the arms in the large box. Besides if his mother needs some decorations, he could always steal some from the store with his new set of arms...after he was finished with it.

He knew the blueprint of the actuators, because he once met Octavius himself. Ollie's dad is in the army, and well, you know how Octavius was working on cold fusion, which was sponsored by the Government...But anyway, Ollie stole, or rather borrowed (since he returned it), a copy of the blueprint, and photocopied it at Kinko's. And he worked on it ever since.

Ollie took his own set out, and ran his finger along to touch of the arms. His own tentacles...not as strong but still tough.

He decided to try it on.

* * *

Gary felt cold. No, not cold, more like he's freezing his ass off! He grasped his coat as hard as he could keeping warm. He does not know how these people get around, especially the farmers. A cold wind blew the soldiers in the army truck, and they each felt far from comfort. Gee, he wanted to say to Scott aloud, is it me, or does Russia finally lost her mind? But he couldn't. You shouldn't joke around in a serious situation. You'd lose your guard. Russia's full of snow, full of hiding places. The Wooies could be anywhere. Gotta keep an eye out. Dangerous people.

But, not as dangerous as the evil mutant Magneto. Gary smiled. Other than Spider-man, this particular spider-fan is also an X-men fan. Wolverine kicked ass, Cyclops rocks, and Jean Grey's hot. That's what he's always thought.

And Magneto, your awesome magnet-mutant-leader-of-the-brotherhood-who-was-once-a-victim-of-the-Holocaust, is gotta be the best. Who couldn't like him? Ian McKellen was wicked in the movies. And...think up a dream battle—Doc Ock verses Magneto. Though, o' Otto would lose in the end because he got metal arms and Magneto controls metal, and well. It'll be an interesting encounter.

So, Wooies couldn't be any dangerous than a brotherhood mutant, as in the fact that in the mutant-verses-human wars, the human army would be in the losing side.

Gary smiled, but was still warming up.

He tries not to think about what happens if he was killed in battle. Afterall, if he's killed, he's killed, but Gary still have dreams, and he wants to (as Otto would say it) 'help mankind'. Okay, so maybe being in the army is helping for mankind, but it doesn't actually does anyone any good if you're dead.

Gary wonders what battle would really, really be like with W2. He'd give them all his best, which's for sure.

* * *

Marc sat on a boulder in the cold, singing in his head. He now knew what guards had to go through, because sitting out there alone in the cold guarding a secret government faculty is, not only painful, but also boring! In all those times he played a role as ninja for S.W.O.R.D., killing all those unlucky guards, he now sympathizes them. Oh well, he thought, I'd be out here for the next...2 hours and a half. Marcus sighed. He'd turn into an iceberg right before the next guy comes.

"O-one thousand b-b-beer bottles are up on the wall," he muttered in the cold. He heard it was to drop below –50 when he's heard its already 13 degrees out there. "One thousand beer bottles are u-up! Take on down, pass it a-around, nine hundred and ninety-nine beer bottles are up on the w-wall!"

_Oh god_, he thought, _I haven't stooped so low enough to sing the beer song from the count of 1,000!_ Oh well. It kills time anyway.

* * *

"I-I'm in control of my life..." Otto whispered in the dark, sleeping, muttering. "N-no one else! I control my own fate!"

Then, he sat up right that minute, his mechanical arms out in a way to attack, him covered in tensed sweat. "Damn you Spider-man!" he tried to catch his breath, and realized...there was no Spider-man. He sighed. Another nightmare. Who wouldn't have one if your life was ruined in a traumatic accident?

He placed his hand over his forehead, and sighed uneasily. Why him, of all people? Why is it Otto Octavius the one who gets hurt? The one, who is a mad scientist? He wonders about that sometimes, and wonder if there is a God. Maybe not, at least in this world.

He heard a knock in his bedroom door. "Otto?" Norman Osborn opened and peeked through.

"What is it Osborn." He spoke coldly, his hand still in his head, not looking at the Green Goblin.

"You're alright? You're practically screaming back here."

"Get out Osborn." Otto said, still not looking up. He didn't want anyone to care. It was his own personal business...and Otto sometimes wish he would hurry up and retire from being a member of this 'ultimate six'.

"...'K. Try and keep quiet, will ya?" Osborn closed the door, and Otto could hear him walk off.

Otto tiredly lay back in his bed, rubbing his temples. Why him, anyway?

* * *

Marc rocked back and forth, still out there in the cold, shivering. He was still singing the beer bottles song, but then, by the time he reached the middle of it, he lost count and panicked.

"Smoke, smoke," he muttered looking through his coat, "where's my friggin' smoke?" He chuckled in relief when he found his cigarette, and wondered why he didn't think of smoking at first.

"Now, what number was I? I think I was in 870...or something." He scratched his head, and took a puff.

"Eight hundred and seventy beer bottles were up on the wall, eight hundred and seventy beer bottles are up! Take one down, pass it around, eight hundred 'n sixty-nine beer bottles 'r up on the wall!"

Whew. Singing and counting is hard work.

"869 beer bottles are up on the wall, 869 beer bottles are up!"

Marc saw something through the snow, and paused. He saw a figure in what seem to be a white coat, but figured that it was to be a fox or something. He shugged and continue to sing.

"Take one down, pass it around, 868 beer bottles are up on the wall!"

Then, out in the quietness snow, engines could be heard. Marc thought he was hearing things, especially when he's been hanging out with jet planes and jeeps too often. You'd never know.

"868 beer bottles are up on the wall, 868 beer bottles are up!"

The noise became louder. Marc began to raise his voice.

"Take one down, pass it around, 867 beer bottles are up in the wall!"

The noise became louder. Marc screamed louder.

"867 beer bottles are up on the wall, 867 beer bottles are up!"

He hears a masculine voice from behind him, by the government facility. "Marc! Marc! Lordy, mate! Don't you hear that!"

"Take one down, pass it around—huh?" It was Morgan. He was running up to his American friend with a rifle in hand.

"Damn it Marcus! Blitzkreig! Blitzkreig!" Morgan gasped. "Look out! Behind you!" His friend pointed to behind Marc.

Marc turned around—a man in a white clear fur coat took out an army Swiss knife and began to attack. But Marc was all prepared, he knew better than this.

"Take one down," he sang with a smirk, grabbing hold of the stranger's arm, "pass it around..." Marc grabbed hold of the guy's head and cracked his neck, "866 beer bottles are up on the wall!"

Morgan stopped in front of his friend. "Forget about beer bottles, look! Here they come!"

Airplanes. Hundreds of them.

They were dark red, a symbol of W2. Marc and Morgan stared at the planes. Where did they get the planes from? The government controlled manufacturing factories.

"Morgan..."

"W-what?"

"They're bombers! Hurry! Hide for cover! Doesn't make you any good dead!"

They began to run towards the Government factory, Marc shooting at the planes with one hand. American style. Sounds of machine guns burst around the air, as the other guards that secured the perimeter of the facility come running and yelling like bloody murder.

The planes were over head, soon dropping bombs. But Marc and Morgan continued to run, missing and dodging the machine guns and bombs.

"Shit!" Morgan cursed.

"Get down!" Marc screamed, who finally stopped shooting. They got down in the snow, soon crawling over the land.

"Look! Look! A rabbit hole! Get in there!"

"Too small!" Morgan yelled. The bombs got louder.

"Make it bigger, Dammit!" Marc screamed. He kicked the edges around the hole, dirt tearing to pieces as he kicks them.

As they build their hole, they could hear no other sound than guns, bombs, and men's screams. Black smoke poisoned the icy air, and this was only an invasion. "Marc!" Morgan screamed, helping his American friend with the kicking.

"Done! Now get down and start shootin'! Don't stop!"

"I know how to fight! I've been in battle before!" Morgan took out his rifle and started shooting at the red planes. Marc did the same.

Soldiers were running around like scattered ants, not sure what to do. They were prepared, but they weren't. Bombs filled the sky. Soldiers were getting hit by bullets. Blood spat every where. Men were screaming for their lives. It was too cold to fight.

"Run! Run!"

"Keep shooting!"

"Mama! I don't wanna die!"

"Shoot! Shoot! Schnell! Schnell!"

It was amazing how Marc and Morgan could still go on.

"Shit!" Marc cursed.

"What?" Morgan asked, still shooting.

"I've run outta ammo! Got some more?"

"That was my last pack."

"Damn it." Marc looked around the battlefield around him. Bodies were everywhere, being blown up into pieces. God, these Wooies are so going to pay for it.

Marcus looked around over to the factory, where an unattended jeep that had a machine gun in the back stood. He tapped on Morgan's shoulder.

"Morg, we got to run to that jeep okay? We need more juice!"

"Okay!" Morgan was still shooting. His ammo was soon to run out.

"Let's run! Now!"

"Now?"

"Now!" Marc grabbed Morgan's jacket collar and they began to climb out. They ran, but still laid low. They ran faster and faster, farther and farther, with Morgan still shooting, but both ignoring the world around them.

But soon enough, an army of tanks entered the battlefield, attending the ambush. This truly was a Blitzkreig.

_They're using World War II material_, Marc thought as he jumped aboard the jeep with Morgan on the machine gun seat, _but why?_

Marc realized, he'd need to save some soldiers in this bloody massacre, because if perhaps if they lose this battle, they'd still need some more men to use teamwork to defend each other in case they were to die when been caught.

"Get on the car!" Morgan nodded at Marc's command and jumped on the driver's seat.

"There's no key!" Morgan said worriedly.

"Here," Marcus took out his Bowie knife, "something I learned from the Terminator movies." He used the knife to hurriedly rip the leather where the keyhole was, which reveals a bunch of wires. He immediately ripped out all of the wires, and the jeep turned on that instant.

"You drive," Marc told Morgan, "I shoot and rescue."

And they entered the hell upon them.

* * *

A big explosion was heard, and black smoke was seen. That made Gary shook. What was happening?

The British army each looked over to where the attack was seen. And soon enough, a few jets flew at a high velocity above them.

"Abandon mission!" The British general yelled. "Retreat! Retreat!"

The jeeps were redirected over to where the smoke was. Gary gulped, just knowing that is where battle was. That is where they were to fight, possibly die. But the people over there needs them. That could be the allies losing, and they need assistance. That could be the Wooies losing, and they could just finish them off.

Gary grasped his rifle, and looked at his friend Scott, eye-to-eye. Suddenly he got a premonition...or perhaps its paranoia? He fears for his friend of death, or maybe he was just simply nervous.

"There's a battle goin' on." Scott said, looking at the black smoke. Gary didn't say anything. "If anything happens, it just happens. We win or lose. We move on. Deal?"

Gary cocked his gun. "Deal."

And they entered the Hell upon them.

* * *

TBC….

OMG! I got some serious writer's block, I swear! But don't worry, I'm not going to lie to you, but the thing you'll be waiting for, will happen next chappie!


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